Cracktastic Hetalia
by YourTruly-Ice
Summary: Ready for some Cracktastic Hetalia times? WARNING: Very random. Very ooc. Hopefully funny. This is honestly my first attempt at writing something that wasn't depressing. Rated T cause I have no idea what my minds going to tell me what to write next.
1. Intro

HELLO LADIES AND GENTS.

For the first time ever, (for me at least)

I present to you…

MY CRACKTASTIC FANFICS! (The only things I'll ever be able to write that aren't depressing)

What happens is when an idea pops into my strange little mind, I'll write it down, and POOF. Cracktastic Hetalia fanfic right in front of your eyes.

So far I've got some insane ideas like obsessive stalkers, people being mistaken for laundry, and etc.

WARNING: Lots of crack, fail, ooc, and fail smut.

This isn't for serious fanfic readers.

It's meant to make you smile. (Unlike the rest of my works)

ENJOY.


	2. Chapter One Gilbert Isn't Obsessed

It was a seemingly normal day. Gilbert (AKA the Kingdom of Awesome) was casually reading over his blogs, his beer of course, not far from his hand. But then he saw it. Someone had actually commented on his blog.

Beer forgotten, Gilbert sat straight up, wondering who was awesome enough to post a comment on his blog. As he read the comment though, his initial feeling of ecstasy turned somewhat into anger and denial.

"Wow. This is so lame. I've read through every single one of these things and it's so obvious that this "AwesomeInvaderOfVitalRegions" (Gilbert's usual screen name) is obsessed with this Matteo person or whatever his name is. What a stalker."

WHAT? There was no way that awesome Gilbert could be obsessed with someone, never mind stalking them! Sure, Matteo- I mean Matthew was his friend and all, but there was no way he was obsessed with that little American! Wait, I meant Canadian. I swear.

Fuming at the so obviously not-awesome-at-all comment, Gilbert noticed something in his inbox. He got tagged for this quiz thing from Antonio.

"Hey Gilbert. Try this; it's really fun and simple! When I read it I thought of you so I decided to tag you."

…

That couldn't be an insult. Not at all.

Gilbert made a mental note to send out the blackmail photos he had on Antonio after he finished the quiz.

"The rules are to put you're IPod on shuffle, and list the first ten songs that are played. Then, you're friends (or whoever you send this to) will get to judge you based on your answers."

This would definitely cheer him up. He only put the most awesome songs on his IPod, and when he posted his results in his blog, they'd take back what they said about him being obsessed with Mettia. I said Matthew, right?

Gilbert got out his IPod, and started to write his reply.

"Song number one- Oh Canada."

Wait, wasn't that birdie's anthem? Oh well. That was a fluke shot thing. Prussia shrugged it off, and finished typing.

"Song two- Canada in my Pocket

Song three- Caribou Gold Rush

Song four- In Canada

Song five- Upper Canadian Rebellion

Song six- Canada had Come of Age

Song seven- Canada's First.

Song eight- … Song eight?"

Gilbert frantically looked down at his classic silver IPod to be greeted by the sight that there was no song eight. He only had seven songs on his IPod.

Pushing his laptop away and chuckling nervously, he quickly shut off the power to his laptop.

He wasn't obsessed with birdie.

Sure, he only had songs about Canada on his IPod… but that was normal, right? RIGHT?

…

The next day, Spain phoned Gilbert up wondering if something was wrong. He always replied to the quizzes he sent. But, strangely enough, when he brought it up, Gilbert seemingly got very sick and had to hang up.

There was no way in hell such an awesome person like Gilbert would ever tell Antonio he stalked Alf- Matthew. Especially when he still had trouble telling his reflection that without going and downing a good five liters of beer.


	3. Cracktastic PostGame Antonio Ludwig

The blaring sun shone mercilessly down on the exhausted football players. They were tired, they were dehydrated, they were fed up with all of this, but they were determined. There was no way they would let the other team win without a fight. After all, this was the Fifa World Cup. Whoever won this would go on to the final round. On one side, you had the Spanish. They were fiery but graceful players. Then you had the German's. They were relentless attackers who never let up the pressure on their opponents. Both teams were amazing, but only one would win.

"SCORE DAMMIT SCORE! COME ON YOU IDIOTS YOU CALL YOURSELF FOOTBALL PLAYERS? BRUDER YOU'D BETTER WIN THIS FOR ME! YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING! GET IT IN THE NET YOU STUPID LITTLE BRAINLESS-". Gilbert hadn't stopped screaming at the German football players since the match started. Francis sighed. He was making a complete fool out of himself. It's not like his brother could hear him through the television.

On the other side of Europe, the scene was very similar, except it was Romano trying to shout through the screen. "ANTONIO YOU IDIOT YOU COULD'VE SCORED RIGHT THERE! POUND THAT STUPID POTATO BASTARD INTO THE DUST! COME ON COME ON COME ON! SOMEONE'S GOTTA BEAT HIM! NO! KICK IT TO HIM! HE'S OPEN YOU STUPID LITTLE TOMATO BASTARD!" Feliciano was a bit frightened by his brother's roaring, but it was nice that he wasn't hiding in his room as usual, so he didn't complain. Actually, he just sat there eating pasta the whole time, smiling happily.

And then we have the actual soccer players. Ludwig and Antonio were both completely wiped. They had been playing for seventy minutes straight, and neither had got a goal.

"Hola Ludwig."

"Hey Spain," Germany half grunted.

Antonio smiled his usual smile. "You're one tough opponent, I'll give you that. But you're going down mi amigo."

Ludwig smirked. "Whatever you say Spain."

They were in the seventy fourth minute. The heat really started to set in now. Everyone was panting, absolutely drenched in sweat. But then something happened. The Spanish got the ball down to the German end. From one to another, then it went up and- GOAL! They had managed a header that had went right past the German goalie.

And boy Antonio can't remember the last time he had felt so ecstatic.

"NO NO NO NO NO NO! HOW THE HELL DIDN'T YOU BLOCK THAT YOU COMPLETE RETARD! YOU COULD'VE STOPPED THAT! NO! NOOOOO!" Gilbert half shouted, half sobbed. "How could you? You stupid… little… brat." Now he was just full out sobbing.

Francis smiled a bit at how much his friend got into the game, and then passed him a beer.

" 'Ere. It 'ill help."

"YES YES YES! THANK YOU SO MUCH ANTONIO! NOW HE'S GOING DOWN! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I COULD KI- No, no no no no! I didn't say that… FUCK."

Feliciano laughed as his brother. He was so strange sometimes.

Back in Africa, the game ended. The Germans walked off the field, sorely disappointed. This was just another year they were headed to the third place game again.

The Spanish on the other hand were dancing and screaming and god knows what else.

However, neither team noticed that two of there players were missing. Antonio sat beside Ludwig; smile brighter than the sun that shone down on them earlier. "I told you I would win."

Ludwig grunted, and then let his head fall down into his hands. His bruder was going to murder him.

Antonio laughed. "Lighten up! It's just a little game of football."

Ludwig stood up and glared at Antonio a bit, then turned to leave.

"Mi amigo, aren't you forgetting something?"

Ludwig looked back, puzzled. "What could I be forgetting?"

Antonio half smirked then strode over to Ludwig and then sat him down on the bench. Ludwig looked at him, thoroughly confused. "Wha-?"

He was interrupted when a set of lips met his own. Antonio smiled, then whispered, "The post-game party."


End file.
